Max's debt free life

[Local Bar – The Rusty Mug]

Max and Caroline sat at the sticky bar of The Rusty Mug, a divey joint that smelled like spilled beer and shattered dreams. The neon lights cast a weird, greenish glow over everything, making their gin and tonics look like radioactive potions.

Max raised her glass. "To being debt-free! Finally, I'm not financially hunted like a low-budget Jason Bourne!"

Caroline clinked her glass. "And to our future bakery! Max & Caroline's Bake Shop. A real, legitimate business, where we don't have to hide from bill collectors or pretend to be dead on the phone."

Max smirked. "Yeah, you're welcome for that. My 'Oh no, Max died in a tragic breadstick accident' performance was Oscar-worthy."

Caroline shuddered. "And deeply concerning. The fake sobbing was too real. I almost believed it myself."

As they sipped their drinks, the door swung open, and in stumbled Oleg, wearing a fur hat that looked suspiciously like a repurposed raccoon, dragging behind him a very reluctant Han. Han's face was the picture of misery, his tiny frame practically deflated, and his suit rumpled like he'd lost a battle with a wind tunnel.

Max's eyes lit up. "Oh great, if it isn't our favorite creepy uncle and his adopted sad hamster!"

Oleg plopped onto the stool next to Max, his hat nearly slipping over his eyes. "Ladies! I see you are celebrating. What for? Finally decided to try lesbianism and leave all us sad men behind?"

Caroline blinked. "What? No! We paid off all our debts today."

Oleg's eyes widened. "All of them? Even the one to Gary the Meat Guy? I thought he'd end up making one of you into sausage!"

Max nodded proudly. "Yep. All clear. Even got a free adult gift basket out of it. It's been a good day."

Han, who had been staring into the void, finally spoke. "You're really leaving the diner, huh?"

Caroline's smile faltered. "Oh, Han..."

Oleg patted Han on the back with enough force to rattle his organs. "Yes, my tiny friend, they are abandoning us. Like the American healthcare system abandons the uninsured."

Han sniffled. "But... who will make fun of my height? Or trick me into eating expired pie? Or call me 'Small Fry' when I do something brave, like use the employee bathroom instead of the customer one?"

Max softened. "Aww, Han, you'll find new waitresses to torment you. Maybe ones who actually do their jobs."

Han sighed. "But they won't be you. You guys are my family. Sure, a really dysfunctional family that might occasionally set the kitchen on fire, but still."

Caroline put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We'll still visit. We're just five blocks away. And if you ever need cupcakes for the diner, you know who to call."

Oleg grinned, slinging an arm around Han. "Come on, buddy. We are here to drink away our sadness. And if that does not work, I have a friend who will 'cheer you up' for forty bucks."

Han turned green. "Oleg, I am not sleeping with one of your 'friends.' The last one tried to sell me counterfeit watches while we were... um... negotiating."

Max burst out laughing. "Oh my God, Han, are you telling me you almost slept with a hooker who moonlights as a watch dealer?"

Han slumped over the bar. "She said I had a 'trustworthy face.' I thought it was a compliment. Turns out it was a sales tactic."

Oleg waved down the bartender. "Four shots of your finest, cheapest tequila!"

The bartender, who looked like he had seen things he'd never unsee, poured out four shots with the speed of a man who knew not to ask questions.

Caroline winced as Oleg handed Han a shot. "Are you sure this is a good idea? He's not a big drinker."

Oleg grinned. "Nonsense. He is like a tiny squirrel. He drinks, he forgets, he wakes up in a new nest. Maybe next to a nice lady. Or at least a lady."

Han eyed the shot glass with the terror of a man about to face a firing squad. "Do I have to?"

Max nudged him. "C'mon, Han. What's the worst that could happen? You take the shot, get a little buzzed, and maybe loosen up enough to dance. Or, you know, pass out and save yourself from Oleg's 'cheering up' friend."

Caroline raised her shot glass. "To new beginnings!"

Oleg raised his. "To old regrets!"

Max clinked glasses. "And to Han, may his liver forgive us!"

Reluctantly, Han raised his glass. "To... not dying?"

They all knocked back the shots. Han sputtered immediately, his tiny body quaking as if he'd just swallowed gasoline. "Is... is tequila supposed to feel like fire?"

Oleg slapped his back again. "Yes! That is the demon leaving your soul. Or entering it. I forget which."

The night wore on, and the drinks kept coming. Han, as it turned out, was a surprisingly honest drunk. He confessed his crush on the waitress at the diner across the street, his secret fear of mascots, and that he once paid a kid to pretend to be his little brother so he could use the 'Family Discount' at a buffet.

At one point, Oleg tried to set Han up with a woman who claimed to be a model. She might have been—for a magazine called People You Shouldn't Lend Money To. Han, horrified, hid behind Caroline, insisting he wasn't ready for that kind of commitment.

Max laughed so hard she nearly fell off her stool. "Relax, Han. She'd probably just take you for a ride. Literally. I think she drives a cab."

By the end of the night, Han was curled up in a booth, clutching an empty basket of fries like a teddy bear. Oleg had disappeared, possibly to "negotiate" with a woman who looked like she could bench press him.

Caroline covered Han with her jacket. "We should get him home. He's going to be so embarrassed tomorrow."

Max sighed, pulling out her phone. "I'll call an Uber. Think he'll remember any of this?"

Caroline shook her head. "God, I hope not." 

Han was still slumped in the booth, snoring lightly and clutching an empty fry basket like it was a life raft. Caroline had draped her jacket over him, and Max was scrolling through her phone, debating whether to call an Uber or a priest.

Oleg reappeared from the shadows, grinning like a cat who'd found a particularly dumb mouse. "Good news, my friends! I have found the perfect woman for Han!"

Max looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Perfect, huh? Does she know her way around a Lego set and enjoy organizing napkins by size?"

Oleg ignored her, gesturing grandly to the doorway. Standing there was a woman who looked like she'd seen everything life had to offer—and sent most of it back to the kitchen. She wore leopard print leggings, a faux fur coat, and had hair teased so high it might interfere with air traffic.

"Her name is Gina," Oleg announced proudly. "She is 51, experienced, and best of all, she says she'll do it for free."

Caroline's eyes widened. "Do what for free?"

Gina sauntered over, her voice like a raspy old jukebox. "Whatever the little guy needs, sugar. I'm just here to help out a friend of Oleg's." She gave them all a wink that seemed to take real effort.

Max snorted into her drink. "Oh my God, is this really happening?"

Oleg nudged Han, who snorted awake, looking around with the confusion of a man who'd fallen asleep in a dive bar and woken up in an episode of a reality show called Surprise Cougars.

"Han, meet Gina," Oleg said, his grin practically criminal. "She is very friendly."

Gina leaned over, her perfume arriving several seconds before she did. "Hey there, handsome. You look like you could use a little company."

Han squinted at her, his vision still vodka-flavored and blurry. "Are... are you my fairy godmother?"

Max burst out laughing. "Well, she might be granting you a wish tonight."

Caroline smacked Max on the arm. "Stop it! He's too drunk for this!"

Oleg waved a hand. "Nonsense! Gina is just going to sit with him. Maybe hold his hand. Maybe tell him a bedtime story."

Gina nodded sagely. "Yeah, I'm great at bedtime stories. Once upon a time, a sweet little guy like you needed a warm hug and maybe a little snuggle—"

Caroline jumped in. "Nope! Nope! No snuggling! How about we just focus on getting Han home safely?"

Han, still dazed, gave Gina a loopy smile. "You smell like my grandma's house. But, like, in a good way."

Max nearly fell off her stool. "Oh my God, this is the best night ever."

Caroline shot Oleg a look. "You can't just hand him over to some random woman! What if he wakes up tomorrow and freaks out?"

Oleg shrugged. "Then he wakes up happy. And Gina is a professional. She worked in hospitality."

Gina winked. "Motel 6, baby. Three stars and a revolving door of opportunity."

Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose. "We are going to hell."

Max giggled. "But at least the ride down will be hilarious."

Han let out a small sigh, his head resting against Gina's shoulder. "You're really nice... You remind me of my aunt. She makes the best cookies."

Gina patted his head. "Oh, sweetie, I make a mean cookie too. And if you're a good boy, maybe I'll let you have a taste."

Max choked on her drink. Caroline's soul left her body for a moment.

Oleg gave a thumbs-up. "See? It is meant to be!"

Caroline threw up her hands. "Okay, that's it. We're calling an Uber. Come on, Han. Time to go home."

Gina pouted, but Han was already falling back asleep. "Aww, too bad. But if he changes his mind, I'm usually at the Rusty Mug on Wednesdays. It's dollar wing night."

Max leaned over to Caroline as they helped Han up. "Honestly, that's a pretty good deal. Chicken wings and a new aunt-in-law?"

Caroline shot her a look. "Not. Helping."

Oleg waved as they hauled Han out the door. "Goodnight, my friends! And remember, love comes in all shapes and ages!"

As they bundled Han into the backseat of the Uber, Max looked over at Caroline. "You think he'll remember any of this?"

Caroline groaned. "God, I hope not."

The Uber driver raised an eyebrow. "So... rough night?"

Max snorted. "You have no idea."

And as they pulled away from The Rusty Mug, Max glanced back at Oleg, who was now trying to serenade Gina with a rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart.

Caroline sighed. "We really need to make new friends."

Max grinned. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

And with that, they drove off into the night, their little group of misfits surviving another day and probably causing a few more therapy sessions along the way.

...

[Max's apartment]

After dropping Han at his house, Max and Caroline returned to their apartment.

Caroline had already collapsed onto her folding bed, muttering something about tequila and emotionally scarring conversations. Within seconds, her soft snores filled the tiny space, muffled by the wall of clothes hanging from the makeshift wardrobe that doubled as a room divider.

Max shuffled into the kitchen, pulling a box of dollar-store kibble from the cabinet. "Alright, Chestnut, dinner is served," she said, pouring the dry food into a chipped bowl. Their horse, Chestnut, poked his head through the window from the alleyway, giving her a grateful snort before munching away.

"Living the dream, big guy," Max whispered, giving him a scratch behind the ear before locking the window.

She padded back to her room, the floor creaking beneath her feet. Her bedroom, or the glorified closet she called her room, was a mess of mismatched blankets, an old lamp with a beaded shade, and the kind of clutter that made you wonder if the floor even existed. She locked the door behind her, a habit born from years of chaos, and flopped onto her bed with a sigh.

Her mind raced, replaying the events of the day—the debts paid off, Han's drunken confessions, Oleg's terrifying idea of matchmaking. But above all, a certain blue-eyed billionaire kept sneaking into her thoughts.

Max rolled onto her side, yanking open the drawer of her bedside table. She reached in, brushing past an emergency candy bar and a small can of pepper spray, until her fingers found it... the card.

It was simple, just his name, "Alex Wilson," and a phone number embossed in silver. The card was worn at the edges from the number of times she'd taken it out, stared at it, and put it back without dialing.

But tonight, something felt different. She was debt-free. She had a bakery on the horizon. And maybe, just maybe, she was done pretending she didn't care.

"Okay, Max," she muttered to herself. "It's just a phone call. Not like he's gonna answer anyway. He's probably halfway across the world doing... rich-people things. Like buying islands or making fun of peasants."

Her thumb hovered over the call button. She bit her lip, nerves, and tequila battling for dominance. Then, with a sudden rush of courage, or recklessness, she hit the button and pressed the phone to her ear. 

It rang once.

Twice.

On the third ring, a voice came through, smooth and clear despite the distance. "Max?"

She froze, her tongue tangled in a knot of uncertainty. "Uh... hey."

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